


My memory plays our tune

by spiteandmalice



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018), The Kitchen (2019)
Genre: Kylux Adjacent Ship, M/M, Summer Romance, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiteandmalice/pseuds/spiteandmalice
Summary: It's the summer of 1973 and Flip Zimmerman is on assignment in NYC, in Hell's Kitchen.





	My memory plays our tune

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers for The Kitchen itself as this is set prior to the events of the movie. Spoils the end of BlackKklansman.
> 
> Heads up: Minor period-typical homophobic slurs and one slur towards Gabriel for being of Irish descent. 
> 
> See end notes for timeline (minor spoilers in end notes).

May 1973:

After the business with the KKK is finished Chief Brady suggests they lay low for a while until any stragglers are picked up for their involvement in the bomb plot. Ron and Patrice head to Chicago, and Flip takes a posting in New York City. He wanted something far more low-key, perhaps Denver, but the chief has a friend in NYC who’ll keep an eye out for him. The various mobs here know every cop in the tri-state area, they need fresh blood so Flip reports for duty at the 10th precinct of the NYPD in Hell’s Kitchen on an overcast May morning. 

He’s picked a bad time to turn up, because the precinct is packed with people compared to Colorado Springs: cops starting their shifts, cops finishing their shifts, a selection of miserable hungover men being kicked out of the drunk tank and four hookers waiting to be processed.

He gets directed to the chief’s office, and the chief has a faint Colorado accent that makes Flip feel more at home already.

“Welcome to the 10th Zimmerman, glad to have you here. Chief Bridges said some good things about you, so let’s get you started, eh? We have a few leads into a money-laundering operation the Irish mafia is running locally, so I’d like you to poke your nose in, get friendly with them, get some intel.” 

He shifts the pile of papers on his desk and takes out a folder that he passes over.

“You're meeting your contact in a gay bar. Sorry, not my call. It's owned by the mob. You're a big fellow though so the fags will leave you alone I'm sure. Ask Betty at the front desk for a car if you need one.”

The bar is discrete, the entrance is down a side alley, blacked-out windows, with a blue neon sign declaring ‘cocktails’ above it. 

The bouncer frisks him before he enters, and gives him a long, hard look. Flip’s wearing the same thing he always wears, flannel shirt, t-shirt, jeans, boots. 

“You know what sorta establishment this is?”

Flip wants to snap back that he always dresses like this, and that’s what a gay man can dress like if he wants to but he just smiles tightly and replies “Yes, sir.”

The bouncer lets him through. 

The bar is nothing special inside, only things noting it as a gay bar are a pink triangle set over the rack of liquor bottles and the couples on the small dance floor are same-gender. 

It’s his contact’s hair that catches his eye at first. A lot of the Irish mafia have reddish hair, but they generally wear it shaven short because they were bruisers and enforcers. This guy’s hair was longer and fashionable, and he was grinning at another man that Flip thought was probably Mickey O’Brien, the bar owner, based on the gruesome scar on the man’s chin that was evident even across the room. His face lights up as he laughs at something Mickey says and Flip tries not to stare at his cheekbones. 

The man catches Flip looking and his eyes are bright and his gaze approving. 

Mickey leaves to go behind the bar and the man walks over to Flip.

“Hi there gorgeous, I’m Gabriel.”

“I’m Flip. Jake Paluski told me you were hiring.” 

Jake Paulski was a low-level runner the police had as an informer, but he was too low level to know anything decent. 

Gabriel looks disappointed. “Oh, you’re here for a job. Okay, follow me.”

He leads Flip over to a corner of the bar with only a few people there. Flip tries not to stare at two men who are kissing tenderly, he can’t decide if it’s their first or last kiss. Gabriel notices his gaze.

“Yeah sorry, lots of queer folks here, try not to let it bother you okay?”

“Uh. It’s not a problem. I’m uh, I’m gay.”

His palms feel sweaty and he’s panicking inside. He’s never spoken those words out loud before, and shit, he’s just given the mafia something to blackmail him with if they found out his real identity. 

Gabriel’s face lights up. 

“Good to know.” he purrs and Flip feels even more nervous now and he’s convinced he’s going to blow this. He feels like a complete idiot, he had the KKK waving guns in his face less than three months ago and he was as cool as a cucumber, now one pretty boy smiles at him and he’s sweating.  _ For fuck’s sake Zimmerman, be cool _ . 

“I’ve just come to the city and Jake’s a friend of my cousin. I need to make some cash for the summer.”

“Good, good, I’ve got just the job for you.”

\--

July 1973:

It feels hotter in NYC than July’s ever felt in Colorado Springs, but Flip guesses that’s the buildings packed together, the crush of so many people on the sidewalks. It felt weird not driving everywhere at first, but he’s gotten used to it. The city has a distinct smell, like garbage and hot asphalt but he kinda likes it. He feels anonymous here. Like he could be anyone he wanted to be.

The mob has him running money and packages all over the neighbourhood. He gets to know the area pretty well, and meets enough people every day he feels he can feedback tidbits to his handler regularly without risking direct suspicion. It’s comfortable undercover work, and he starts to relax until he realises there’s a mole in the 10th precinct, then he triple checks every face he meets. The chief has put the mole as his top priority but Flip’s tentative lines of enquiry are not going anywhere, the mole is in deep.

He still goes to the bar he met Gabriel at every so often, lurks with an overpriced, watered-down whiskey in one of the sticky booths, occasionally gets brave enough to dance with one of the pretty young things that flit around the dancefloor giving him bedroom eyes. He feels a bit too old, too damaged, like he’s seen too much shit in his life to just enjoy himself as they do. He wonders do they come from a town where there are crosses burning on their front lawns. If they ran towards NYC, or ran away from their towns. 

He’s not sure why he always goes to the same bar, he tries to justify it’d be too difficult to find another gay bar within walking distance of his apartment. That’s bullshit. He knows it’s because he wants to see Gabriel again. He’s seen him only twice since being hired, once passing through a poker den where Gabriel had winked at him, and another time they were both at a wake together but Flip was too much of a coward to approach him. 

Tonight the bar is crowded, a drag queen is commanding the crowd on a temporary rickety stage that’s been shoved onto the dance floor. Flip’s watching her so he doesn’t notice someone sliding up to him. It’s Gabriel.

“We need to talk Flip.”

“Sure.”

Gabriel leads Flip to a storeroom on the east side of the building. He’s been here once before, dropped off some coke. Gabriel flicks the light on, shuts the door behind them and crosses his arms over his chest.

“So how long have you been undercover?”

Flip laughs, aims for casual. “Undercover what? Police? Do I look like a pig?”

Gabriel stares at him, gaze unrelenting and Flip shrugs. 

“I don’t know who you think I am Gabriel, I’m just here for a good time, earn some summer money.” 

“Yeah, I heard the whole spiel the first time. Very convincing. However most of our runners ask questions or comment, you just nod and go ahead with whatever task you’re given. Every single time. That’s suspicious. When I saw you at Jenny’s wake I didn’t think much of it, but by Tuesday both of Jenny’s brothers were in custody. How would that have been possible, unless it was someone who had been at the house and could point out their location? And now you’re here, when I am.”

“No idea about Jenny’s brothers, don’t think I even met them.” 

He’s lying, he had tipped his handlers off within the hour when he spotted them. 

Flip keeps his voice deliberately level and continues. “And us both being here is a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Flip’s heard the stories about Gabriel, how he vanishes bodies and problems faster than anyone. He’s a dangerous man but Flip’s met plenty of them before. He just needs to buy a little time with Gabriel, maybe a week until the mole is flushed. Flip'll be back on a bus to Colorado before Gabriel even knows he’s gone.

Flip brushes a hand through his own hair, puts on his most alluring smile and steps closer to Gabriel. He needs to put Gabriel on a different train of thought if he’s going to get out of this. Make him buy the lie: hook, line and sinker.

“I had hoped you were bringing me back here for a different reason, Gabriel.” This was the hook. 

Gabriel's eyes narrow and Flip continues.

“Ask Mickey, I come here all the time. I’m gay, I like to have a drink, I live nearby.” This is the line he needs Gabriel to believe. 

Gabriel’s almost the same height as him, but even so Flip lowers his gaze, looks up through his lashes. Time for the sinker. “It’s stupid, I feel silly even admitting this: but I’ve been waiting for  _ you _ , Gabriel.”

His voice is maybe a little breathy, and it sounds a little like a soap opera line to his ears but Gabriel’s stepping into the gap between them. 

Flip leans in to meet him and Gabriel kisses him. It’s a good kiss, they’re both loose-limbed and drunk enough it becomes sloppy and intense from the first wet slide of Gabriel’s clever tongue against Flip’s. Gabriel’s body is hot against his and Flip rolls his hips against Gabriel’s and dammit Flip’s as hard as a rock already, and he’s just really getting into it when he feels  _ it _ .

A gun muzzle pressed under his ribs. 

Gabriel pulls back and Flip hates how he watches Gabriel’s wet lips instead of immediately worrying about the gun. He curses the fucking whiskey for messing with his head and Gabriel for messing with his dick. 

“I’m asking again, but less nicely. Are you a cop?”

Flip puts both his hands up and widens his eyes in legit worry. If anyone in the entire city could vanish his body, it’d be Gabriel. Flip'd be just another statistic by dawn. No one would ever know where he went. 

“I’m not.”

The safety gets clicked off at that response, muzzle pressing hard enough there’s going to be a bruise- if he lives.

“My ma said Peter denied Jesus three times, so I’ll give you another shot. Are. You. A. Cop.”

Flip swallows. “Yes.”

The safety is clicked back on and Gabriel shoves the gun back into his waistband.

“Good. Because I want out.”

\--

September 1973:

Flip meets Gabriel every week at DeWitt Clinton Park and they exchange information. With Gabriel informing the arrest rate goes up and bigger fish get caught in the police’s net. Their relationship goes back to being strictly professional, and Flip stores every moment in his head with Gabriel to relive later alone and hates himself for it. 

This week there’s a rumour that DeWitt is being watched so they’ve changed their meetup spot to West 41st and 11th. Flip’s two blocks away when he spots the same two goons behind him as had been there five blocks ago. Tails. 

He puts on a burst of speed, and darts around the corner to see Gabriel already waiting.

“I’m being followed.” Flip says in lieu of a greeting.

“That all? You look like the devil is chasing you.”

Gabriel takes his elbow and leads him a few feet to a dark alley, next to a dumpster. 

“Kiss me like you mean it, Zimmerman.”

“I’m not fuckin’ kissing you here-”

Gabriel grabs the front of his shirt and presses him against the brick wall, mouth finding Flip’s. Flip tries to remember why he was protesting in the first place when Gabriel rolls his hips against Flip and groans low, the exact low and dirty same way Flip had imagined he would. Flip moans back, hands sliding down to grip Gabriel’s ass. 

The footsteps come closer. Oh shit. Yes. The goons. 

He hears a hrmph of disgust behind them and keeps his eyes tightly closed, focusing on Gabriel’s mouth, his body under his hands. If he’s going to get gunned down in an alley, at least it’d be with Gabriel. That thought shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is.

The goon shouts back to the other, who’s presumably still on the main street. “Only two queers down here, let’s keep looking, he must have dodged into a deli or somethin’.”

Gabriel’s mouth is kiss swollen when they pull away and Flip brushes his hair back from his face.

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel grins. “You’re a right damsel in distress, you know that? In fact-”

Flip kisses him to shut him up, and they stay there for a while in the shadow of the alley, leaving the noise of the city pass them by as they learn each other's mouths. 

After the alley, Gabriel’s back to being all about business and Flip mourns that he might have lost his one chance of finding out if Gabriel was freckled all over.

He accepts this turn of events reluctantly and goes back to focusing on their work. Everything’s been going well until this particular evening. Flip’s getting his keys out of his pocket when he happens to glance up at his apartment, sees a quick glimpse of one of the mob’s most notorious hitman passing by his living room window. 

He’s burned. 

The mole has still not been found, and now he’s been burned. 

Flip’s got nowhere to stay, and can’t trust anyone in the precinct right now. Every hotel and flophouse owner locally is linked to the mob in some way, and he’s fucked. He’s totally fucked. 

He’s gonna get very, very drunk in one of the few safe bars he knows, and hope he makes it through the night. He’ll go to the chief tomorrow when he arrives at 8 am, get a safe house, get protected.

It’s a Brazillian-run bar that he’s been to when the gay bar is too crowded or closed, it’s big enough for fifty or so patrons, but it’s completely dead tonight, Joe’s in the far corner as usual and Ana’s tending bar. She’s reading a novel between serving him and Joe. 

Flip startles, sloshing some of his drink over his hand, when Ana slams her novel down on the bar suddenly.

“I don’t want you here. We might pay you mob boys but that doesn't mean you're welcome.” she calls out to someone behind him. 

Flip turns around, but he somehow knows it’s Gabriel before he even looks. Gabriel places a hand on his shoulder. 

Gabriel’s smiling sweetly, not that it will help him with Ana. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk to my friend here. We’ll go outside if you want, I’m not here to get involved in anyone’s business but my own tonight.”

Ana puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t know if he wants to go with you.”

“It’s fine Ana. He’s a friend.” Flip wobbles on the stool, shrugs Gabriel’s hand off him. Ana usually prefers to read than chat to patrons, but she makes her tips through the generous measures she pours and he’s lost count how many he’s had.

Ana snorts. “I’d hate to see your enemies if men like  _ him  _ are your friends. Does your  _ friend _ want a drink?” 

“I’ll have a caipirinha please, extra lime.”

“Thought you Micks only drank whiskey. Now you ask me for extra lime!”

Gabriel’s smile twitches slightly at the slur. “I’ll have a cachaça on the rocks if you have no limes.”

Ana snorts again. “Of course I have limes! What sort of bar do you think I’m running? Sit down and say what you need to with your friend and I’ll get your drink. One drink and then you’re out of here.”

Gabriel nods in response and she goes to the other end of the bar, refills Joe’s glass and starts making Gabriel his drink.

Gabriel lowers his voice. “I know you’re burned, Flip.”

“How do you know that?”

“I burned you.”

Flip feels his heart clench in his chest. 

“Why?”

“I know who the mole is, and I had to blow your cover before he did. Trust me okay?” 

Flip barks out a laugh so loud both Ana and Joe turn to look at him. He feels hysterical. This night is going from bad to worse.

“Trust you? Trust you? Look where that’s gotten me.”

“You don’t understand, it’s Larry Walker.”

They’d made a list of officers suspected to be a mole and Larry wasn’t even on the long list. 

“How?”

“He’s clean living as they come, our intel was sound on that, but his eldest son got deep into the coke and horses last years. Larry stepped up to protect him.”

Ana’s back, she tops up Flip’s glass with one hand while she places Gabriel’s down with the other.

“With extra lime, as requested.”

Gabriel takes a long sip. “It’s perfect thank you.” 

He puts down a few notes that more than cover their tab, then says something to her in stilted Portuguese and Ana’s wary expression softens slightly. She says something back to him, gestures at Flip and they both laugh. Flip’s pretty sure they’re both laughing at him.

A couple holding hands have come into the bar now and sit too close to Flip and Gabriel for them to talk and not be overheard. 

Flip knocks back his bourbon, and stumbles off his stool.

“Gabriel, follow me to the restroom in a minute okay?”

Gabriel winks, and sucks on his straw in what he probably thinks is a seductive manner (it is) and Flip scowls. 

“To  _ talk _ . For fuck’s sake...” he trails off as he walks towards the back. They’d kissed twice, and now Gabriel thought what, Flip’d just blow him in a dirty bathroom? 

Well. He’s happy to admit to himself that he would, for the record, but he’s drunk and burned and sex would have to wait, no matter how long he’s been thinking about it. 

When Gabriel pushes the restroom door open a few minutes later Flip’s mind is back on his interactions with Larry and away from Gabriel. The puzzle pieces are falling into place and he’s confident Gabriel’s right, but it hurts to know it was Larry. Larry Walker. Jesus. 

“I went for drinks with him only last week. He asked where I lived, wanted to call me a cab. It  _ is  _ Larry. Shit. Shit.” 

Gabriel shrugs. “Now you know who it is, can we fuck finally, Zimmerman?”

Flip chokes on air at that, head spinning, he wants to deny that he wants it as much as Gabriel seems to, but he doesn’t move an inch as Gabriel takes slow deliberate steps towards him and either Flip’s a lot drunker than he thought or maybe he’s just weak, because suddenly they’re kissing and Gabriel’s mouth tastes sweet and sour at once, limes and sugar on his tongue and Flip wants to lick the taste out of him.

Oh, he’s fucked. He’s way too drunk for this.

They pull apart quickly when the door to the restroom opens but Joe doesn’t even seem to notice they’re there, stumbling to a urinal.

Gabriel leans close to whisper in his ear. “I won’t harm your virtue Zimmerman, relax. I’ve got a place that no one knows about, you can sleep it off in peace.”

Flip’s tired, and angry at Larry and he just wants to sleep and do his fucking job without having to look over his shoulder. He wants to go back to Colorado without worrying about Ron getting lynched, or bombs or any of that shit. He just wants to do his fucking job. 

Gabriel is the perfect host, offers Flip a pillow and puts sheets on the couch for him, pours him a glass of water and turns out the light. 

Flip thinks about getting up and going to Gabriel’s bedroom, demanding he makes good on his flirting, but he’s asleep before he’s even taken his shoes off.

He wakes with Gabriel tapping his shoulder. The apartment is bright,  _ too bright  _ his hangover screams and Gabriel is handing him a coffee and a towel.

He takes the world’s longest leak, showers, brushes his teeth with a blob of toothpaste and the edge of his towel. He gets dressed, then drinks two cups of coffee while Gabriel takes a shower and he finally feels human again.

It’s just before 7 am, Flip figures he can borrow some sunglasses from Gabriel, maybe a hat, try to look vaguely incognito and take a cab directly to the precinct. 

He’s sitting on Gabriel’s ugly couch putting his shoes on when Gabriel slides onto his lap. He’s gotten dressed, damp hair slicked back, but his shirt is open and Flip tries not to stare at the strip of bare skin showing from throat to groin.

“I figured we could finish what we started last night?”

“It’s a bad idea, O’Malley, trust me.”

Gabriel grinned. “I’m full of bad ideas. But I think this is one of my good ones.”

He kisses Flip before he can respond and he tastes of coffee now, and it’s probably the bourbon from last night that’s killed off the last of Flip’s brain cells but Flip thinks ‘screw it’ and kisses back. He’s got an hour. Maybe two, he doesn’t need to be there at 8 am on the dot now he knows who the mole is. Maybe that was Gabriel’s plan all along. Hand over the information so Flip would stay. 

Gabriel leads him to the bedroom and they undress, slowly, helping each other back out of clothing they’d only just put back on. It’s a lot cooler in here, a battered A/C unit blasting in the window frame and Flip shivers when he’s finally naked. 

The sun is fully up now, streaming in the window and it feels bizarre to Flip to be doing this in daylight rather than the humid backseat of a car, or in the dark back room of a gay bar, touching each other quickly before the police came and kicked everyone out.

Gabriel’s beautiful in the sunlight, freckles standing out, hair glowing. He’s straddling Flip, holding him down and taking what he needs and Flip’s helpless, just along for the ride, and he holds onto Gabriel’s hips and tries not to blurt out anything stupid like ‘you’re beautiful’ or ‘I had thought it’d be like just this’.

It’s strangely soft afterwards, and Flip’s never done this either, never laid with another man in an actual bed. Gabriel nuzzles into him and Flip holds him to his chest, and it’s nice. It’s really nice. He knows Gabriel’s a killer, has far too much blood on his hands to ever wash clean, but right now he smells like shampoo and sex and he’s yawning in Flip’s arms and Flip feels safe around him. 

He closes his eyes. It’s only half 8 and he’s still pretty damn tired and hungover. He’ll have a little snooze and then go to the precinct. 

Gabriel eventually crawls out of the bed, yanks the curtains closed and they doze together in the muted sunlight. 

\--

November 1973:

Later the same morning when Flip arrests Larry there’s an allegedly random series of shootings that just happens to take out the other four people in the mob that know Flip’s a cop and no one else. Larry’s also dead by the end of the day, beaten to death by another inmate.

Gabriel has the world’s flimsiest alibi for the shootings, but Flip doesn’t push, just whispers thanks when he thinks Gabriel’s asleep next to him. 

They’ve been fucking non-stop for the last five weeks and Flip can’t get enough and he knows he’s too far gone because when Gabriel vanishes for a few hours at short notice and comes back with an envelope of cash, Flip pretends that everything is fine. 

At the end of November Chief Brady contacts Flip at the 10th precinct, tells him all the local KKK members have been rounded up, the investigation is over and that Colorado Springs is safe for him and Ron again. He’s very close to telling Brady that he’s fine where he is, but Gabriel’s been gone for four days and the empty apartment reminds Flip that there’s no happy ending for them, that Gabriel’s eventually going to get bored of him, be arrested or wind up dead. Flip’s been on desk duty since Larry was arrested and he’s antsy, wants to get out there and do his job. 

Flip’s bus is leaving at noon and it’s just after ten, but Gabriel wants to fuck him one last time and Flip can’t refuse him. Flip’s on his hands and knees in their living room and he stares at the rough brown and orange carpet and tries to remind himself that this is the right choice, it’s for the best that he goes. It’s best for both of them.

He’s lying and they both know it. 

\--

December 1975:

It’s two years later. When Flip moved back to Colorado Springs he bought a house on the very edge of town, where he has no neighbours. He works case after case after case, throws himself into the job until even Ron eventually stops asking him if he’s okay. 

If he’s busy, he can’t think about New York. 

Ron and Patrice are celebrating their first Christmas together as a married couple and they’ve invited him over for eggnog. Flip knows what will happen if he goes: Patrice will have a perfectly lovely, very pretty and incredibly smart friend for him to meet, Flip’ll be quietly miserable and overly polite, the friend will leave disappointed. 

He spends Christmas Eve alone instead, bundles up in layers and fires up the grill for the first time in a while, cooked two steaks as a treat and makes plans to watch a bad movie with a few beers and go to bed alone, the same as always.

Life is a steady routine for him nowadays: work, then more work, and then every few months he books a motel room and tries to pick a guy up in the gay bar in Colorado Springs. Sometimes he succeeds in finding someone, gets a quick handjob in the darkroom, maybe a blowjob in the alley out the back. He never brings them back to the motel, doesn’t ask names. 

Mostly, he works. The rest of the time he misses Gabriel. 

He dreams of him every night. Stupid, mundane things sometimes, like he sees Gabriel making coffee, or reading the newspaper. Or sad things, like Gabriel walking away, or bleeding out on the sidewalk, dead.

Sometimes he dreams of Gabriel’s hands waking his body up, his morning stubble on Flip’s inner thigh, the times he made love to Flip slowly, gently pushing into him while Flip panted against the sheets, eyes shut tightly and they rocked together in the morning sunlight. 

He wakes alone. Those dreams are the worst. 

It’s only because Flip’s standing by the front window that he even sees the car. He’s lighting his menorah (6 candles tonight), when he sees the nondescript brown sedan drive slowly past the house, then drive past again three minutes later. 

His only friends are cops whose cars he knows like the back of his hand and he hasn't seen his family since they kicked him out for sneaking around with Jim Mitchell in senior year, so it’s not going to be a friendly visitor.

Flip tries to reassure himself that if the KKK wanted him strung up as an example, there'd be a dozen cars, flaming torches, hoods, the whole works. This is one car. 

He grabs his service revolver anyway, opens his front door. The driver parks and Flip clicks the safety off, aims. 

It’s Gabriel. He looks terrible, hair wild, with dark smudges under his eyes. He gets out of the car and hovers nervously. 

“Hi. Uh. You don’t need the gun.”

“I didn’t think you’d gotten my card.” Flip blurts out, putting his gun away.

Flip had sent a Christmas card in December 1973 with his new address. He’d not heard anything back, or anything else about Gabriel in the time since he’d left NYC. It had taken him all his willpower not to drive back to him, to contact his colleagues in the 10th to see if Gabriel was okay. 

If he was even alive. 

“I kept it. And you're the only person on this side of the Atlantic I trust. Please. I know you left, that you hate me, that you’re angry-”

“I don’t hate you, Gabriel. I missed you.”

Gabriel’s staring at him, squinting slightly like he doesn’t understand what Flip’s saying.

“You...missed me.”

Flip’s had a long time to think about this. What he would say if he had the opportunity. He’s a detective, he knows how to follow a lead. Every clue said ‘ _ Gabriel Gabriel Gabriel’. _

“I missed you. Every fucking day. If you need to, you could move in, you know. Not just stay for a while."

Gabriel scoffs, kicks at the gravel under his feet. “Don’t say shit like that. You don’t mean it.” 

“I mean it. I’ve got plenty of room here. It’s quiet, it’s private. I missed you.”

Gabriel’s staring at him, brow furrowing.

“I didn’t leave, you did. And now you want me to stay? You do realise I missed you every day too when you left the city? I never felt anything like I did with you before. I fucked around a bit when you left, but it didn’t mean anything. It just... hurt. That means something, doesn't it Flip?”

“Please stay.”

Gabriel shuts the car door and is kissing him in between whispering  _ yes  _ against Flip’s mouth. 

Dusk falls around them as they kiss and eventually Flip leads him into the warm house. Gabriel doesn’t even have a suitcase with him. 

“So what’s the plan Flip? I stay here, be your little wife at home? I like the sound of that. I could learn to cook.”

“You could get a job-”

Gabriel snorts. “No thanks. I’m grand. I don’t need one.” 

“I don’t make that sort of money as a detective Gabriel. You'd need-"

Gabriel grins, low and easy and Flip’s immediately suspicious. "You haven’t looked in the trunk yet.”

“Please tell me it’s not a body."

“It’s a little over a million dollars, in cash.”

“What- what the  _ fuck _ .”

“Don’t worry, it’s clean. It was coming in on a boat to Redhook, there was a heist, the mafia thinks it’s been lost in the bay so aren’t looking for it. I’m completely out of the game now. I faked my own death. Sort of a reverse of my usual job to be honest. I’m free.”

“You’re really free.”

Gabriel grins and echoes: “I’m really free.”

They grin at each other, but Flip ruins the moment by yawning.

Gabriel echoes the yawn. “I’ve been driving on and off for about thirty hours, I’m wrecked.”

“I did a double shift today, but I’ve got the next two days off. Let’s get some sleep.”

They go to bed, but Flip can’t sleep. He keeps drifting off only to open his eyes to check that yes, that is Gabriel in his bed, that is really is Gabriel snoring softly against Flip’s pillows.

He must sleep eventually because when he wakes up it’s to cold winter daylight outside. Gabriel’s half of the bed is lit up by the sun from the hallway window and Flip’s reminded of that first night he spent in Gabriel’s apartment, how Gabriel had looked in the autumn sunlight of that morning. 

Gabriel opens one eye. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

Flip curls a hand around a bicep and tugs Gabriel closer to him, out of the sunlight. They doze.

It’s still daylight when he wakes again but this time Gabriel's tugging the duvet from where it's curled around Flip's body.

"You stole the duvet. Go back to sleep." Gabriel whispers to him.

Flip sleeps without dreaming for the first time in two years.

**Author's Note:**

> Rough timeline: 
> 
> The events of Blackkklansman the movie happen towards the end of 1972 (in RL it was 1979) and the events of the Kitchen happen 1978 so Gabriel and Flip were together from the end of 1975 to mid-1978, which could be Gabriel’s two years out west that are referred to in The Kitchen. I like to think Gabriel returned to Flip, after the events of the Kitchen and stayed this time. 
> 
> I’m on twitter @spiteandmalice


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